


Finding the Value of Patience

by Six_Lily_Petals, WolfieWhispers



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Jealousy, Love/Hate, M/M, Manipulation, Rare Pairings, Romance, Sex Magic, Sexual Tension, Top!Solas, Unromantic Sex, top!dorian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4303947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Six_Lily_Petals/pseuds/Six_Lily_Petals, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfieWhispers/pseuds/WolfieWhispers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas admires Dorian's talents but is frustrated by his arrogance which prevents Dorian from listening to anyone else when it comes to learning more about magical talent.  Solas hits a breaking point when he finally decides to speak to Dorian in a way that the overly spoiled Tevinter can understand.</p><p>Solas/Dorian rare pair smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Untapped Potential

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WolfieWhispers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfieWhispers/gifts).



> This is a rare pair challenge that I took on to see if it could be done in a semi-believable way. If anything, it's something different, very different.

The Storm Coast was as miserable as its reputation lauded it.  The rain was constant and the sun never forced its way through the clouds to warm an inch of ground.  The Inquisitor’s party had given up any attempts to keep anything dry, with the exception of one person.

Solas felt a ripple in the nearby Fade energy that seemed to follow them.  “Dorian, are you still drawing a barrier?”

“Perhaps.”

“We haven't seen a fight for a half hour, what could you possibly need it for?”  Solas turned back and now that he was looking, could see that Dorian was diverting the rain around him.  His mana draw was nearly imperceptible as he was warping the veil to fold around him

"Would you rather I waste my strength wearing rain soaked robes.  Trudge around like a smelly druffalo.  I think not.  Imagine the tragedy should any kohl run in my eyes?  Or worse, my hair loose its hold, it would be utter chaos!”  Dorian scoffed to himself with an irritated shake of his head.  “The humidity is already presenting a challenge.”

"Your vanity knows no bounds."

“Oh, come now Solas.  It’s not as though I’m expending an inordinate amount of effort.  Try not to sound too cheery, one might think you were jealous.”

Solas wasn’t jealous, but he was intrigued.  Dorian had a sounder understanding of the advanced nuances of magic to the point he had formed a unique style that broke from the typical mold that was seen in circle mages, even the Tevinter ones.  It was a rare occurrence and unfortunately the man knew it.  He had studied in a circle and wasn’t damaged by it.  Solas might have been able to have a decent, engaging conversation with him were it not for his insufferable arrogance. 

***

Dorian and Solas stood in the center of the rotunda in the main castle of Skyhold.  Between them, Dorian worked three elemental weaves that were supposed to join.  Instead, they scraped harshly against each other and petered out when they interfered with one another instead of bonding.

"No!  You are too impatient!"  Solas raised his voice only shy of actually yelling. 

"Don't speak to me as a child!  Otherwise, I will show you just how petulant I can be!"

"You asked me to show you and I did."  With a curt wave of his hand he walked back to his chair.  "I'm done with you for the day.”  Solas thought on the prospect for a moment.  “Honestly, you may keep to yourself for a few days."  He focused his attention on a tome from his desk that had been previously bookmarked, much to Dorian’s irritation.

Dorian reached across the desk and pressed his hand on the pages of the book, pinning it to the desk.  "Don't think you can be dismissive of me!"

"Why?  Because you are a Magister?"  Solas jerked back the book, knowing Dorian would loosen his hold to prevent any damage. 

“Why do you insist on labeling me as something that I am clearly not?”

“Amusing.  I would have asked you the same thing.”

“Vishante kaffas!  There is no pleasing you.  You are absolutely determined to be a pain in the ass!”

“Dorian, when you cease speaking of yourself, we may pick up where we left off.  Until then…”  Solas’s piercing eyes glided to one side, showing Dorian the doorway, his second dismissal.  With a dramatic flair of his robes accompanied by a deft sheathing of his staff on his back, Dorian took his leave with the air of man who won their argument.  Which, he hadn’t.  Solas sighed to himself.  Dorian was a petulant child who was quite gifted, capable and eager to learn, a rare thing to find in anyone, much less a spoiled Tevinter. 

Solas leaned back in his chair with a cup of tea that he reheated with a wave of fire from his palm.  Solas would allow Dorian some time.  Patience was something that Solas was no stranger to and took on easily.  Surly such talent would not be wasted on someone too vain to eventually have a few moments of humility. 

***

Dorian was walking down the stairs from the library proper.  The steps ended in the rotunda and Solas called out to him.  “I can hear your conversations with the Inquisitor.  You tease and imply quite often.  However there is no intent behind it.  You shouldn’t lead her on like that.”

“What she and I speak of is none of your concern!  Is that what fills your days now?  Hmm?  Have you actually exhausted the Fade enough that you now concern yourself with gossip like some milksop maid who hasn’t the slightest-”

Dorian stumbled backward and grasped his waist.  His pride prevented him from completely doubling over as he knew where the mind blast had come from.

“Fasta Vass!  What is the meaning of this?!”

“You need to learn patience and moderation.”

Dorian folded his arms in front of his chest.  His response heavy with mockery, yet tinged with some jealousy.  “This coming from a mage who spends most of his time in the Fade where time has no meaning.  What’s the use of patience?” 

“Greater things are always to be had when one exercises restraint for the purposes of understanding to achieve true mastery.” 

“All at the sacrifice of the here and now.  I’m impressed that you are even aware that the breach looms in the sky.  Tell me, did you need to have someone point it out to you?  At least he Inquisitor and I take pleasure in each other’s company.”  Dorian watched Solas for the reaction he was digging for.  Solas’ passive expression irked Dorian to push his teasing further than was polite.  He walked up to Solas’ desk and slid all of his workings on the surface to one side, then planted both hands on the edge so that he may lean across to whisper in his best tantalizing voice, “So wrapped up in exploring the dead and decaying ruins of the past that you forgo any pleasures on either side of the Veil?”

His implications were received clearly as he watched Solas’ face change ever so slightly, however not as much as would grant Dorian the victory he sought.  His response actually caught Dorian by surprise.

"I am not unfamilar with such things.  I find it odd coming from you to assume that I don't.  It is not as though you have lived enough to truly know what you are talking about."

Dorian could feel a heat pooling in his stomach, drifting dangerously lower.  Memories of nights back home filled with moans echoing in darkened rooms reminded him how limited his options were in Skyhold.  "Oh I have lived.  Do you think that as an Altus anything was ever denied to me?"

Solas offered a slight shrug of his shoulders with an indifferent sigh.  "If you are happy in your ignorant assumptions that any of those dalliances were of any significance, then that is your business.”  He paused, keeping Dorian waiting, dangling on each word he said.  “What I know is beyond even your wildest imaginings."

Solas intentionally baited him.  They had played their little game of tug-of-war but now Solas was playing to win. 

"Are you challenging me?"  Dorian took a step back then walked around the desk to stand beside Solas as he stroked his mustache, aglow in his self-confidence. 

As ever, Solas ignored the invasion of personal space and continued the conversation like a man who knew that he would eventually have the upper hand.  “I would not challenge you any more than The Bull would challenge a mabari.”

“Yes, yes.  The outcome would be inevitable.”  Dorian stalked up closer, letting his breath slick on Solas’ neck.  “But he would enjoy getting dirty in the process.”

Solas stepped forward so that he could turn and face his pursuer.  His expression was neutral, his voice dismissive.  “Your childish games are pitiable and utterly wasted.  Chase after Bull or find some other diversion who actually gives credence to your base inclinations.”

“Oh, that is how it will be then?”

“You have been dismissed.  I will no longer participate in this discussion.”

Solas wouldn’t continue the discussion, but Dorian knew that he could.  The denial spoke to him, Dorian has always enjoyed playing hard to get.  However, Solas was the one playing hard to get and Dorian _hated_ him for it.  Having used a similar game with his lovers who were a bit more difficult to snare, he recognized when there was the implication of more.  With Solas, it wasn’t completely about flirting or sex which made it all the more infuriating that he did it so well. 

“What have I told you about dismissing me?”

“Apparently it only encourages your efforts to annoy me.”  Solas glared with narrowed eyes.  Then, Solas had a thought.  Dorian would later be able to place the exact moment when it crossed the elf’s mind as his haughty smirk was burned into his memory.  “A demonstration then, a goal for you to look forward to when you finally grasp the concept of patience.”

Dorain felt the spell roll up around him like steam from a hot spring.  It encompassed and surrounded him.  The pattern and forms were slow to take shape.  Solas manipulated the components with a gentle touch, slowly encouraging their shape instead of forcing them as Dorian had been taught (then later dismissed in some instances when he exceeded the capabilities of the grand masters).  Dorian wanted to reach out with a hand slicked with mana to feel the movements, wrap his fingers around the bonds to fully comprehend how they were carefully constructed.  Minutes passed and almost stacked to the point of being called an hour.  The artful ballet hid the passage of time for him.  For the first time in decades, Dorian was in awe. 

“You are talented.  I have attempted to show you what you are capable of before.  I see now that it will require that I show you using a language that you will understand.”  Solas held up an open palm to calm the flow of magic drifting in the air.  Fear gripped Dorian as he worried that Solas would call an abrupt end before finishing what he had spent so much time molding. 

With a swift snap of his wrist, Solas’ hand clamped shut.  According to Dorian’s point of view, the world obeyed the simple command.  His entire being, his physical body- his spirit- his mind, was invaded by the sculpted magic which rushed into every crevice it could find. 

Desire~Lust~Want~Hunger

It all came sweeping over him like a wave which was welcomed by his body as it transformed into a delicious passion.  Solas was right, it was impossible to imagine let alone describe to another living being. 

The heat in Dorian’s cheeks began to scorch his skull.  There was no response, nothing that could be done or said to save face.  Instead of snapping back with a typical witty response, he briskly made way for his quarters.  The closer he got, the faster his steps became.  His muscles tensed with urgency.  Once inside after slamming the door shut, he debated for a few moments on whether he should try and recreate the surge that Solas had thrown at him.  His body screamed in protest, forcing his hand hastily through his robes.  He focused his mind with great clarity to remember, to feel the imprint of the surge once more.  The memory was enough as he soon came hard, headless of what was in the way, as all his strength spilled out of him on to the floor and his clothes.  He crouched on bended knee as his thumb and index finger worked out the remnants of the suffocating lust that had taken captive of his body and ruined his sanity.  The aftershocks of his orgasm continued to crackle throughout his body.  He exhaled with full force.  _Andraste’s flaming ass, what was that?_

***

Dorian avoided Solas for a week following the example he had made of him.  Dorian thought on what he had said, dissecting each word.  His claims were absurd.  How could anything this wayward apostate experience even compare to the bacchanalia of the Imperium?  And yet, after a small taste, he felt starved for it.  Experiencing the spell that Solas flippantly tossed at him, his curiosity drove his mind into dark, sensual places. 

He needed to find a way to talk to Solas about what had happened without seeming to be the errant student, begging for instruction.  He went to the rotunda, a half formed plan in mind but Solas was absent.  He continued his search in the adjoining rooms and corridors.  As the arguments built in his mind, he decided that it wasn’t just the spells, it was the books too.  All that were of any respectability were hoarded by Solas.  Previously, when Dorian had attempted to simply borrow one or ten, Solas took up the damnable habit of squirreling away the better ones in some unknown hiding place. 

Tonight would be the night he would find them.  Solas had claimed that Dorian was cocksure.  Well, the freakish apostate wasn’t precisely the archetype of humility either.  It wouldn’t hurt to find the stash and perhaps use them as a bargaining chip when discussing the, _whatever,_ that plagued Dorian’s every waking moment. 

His exploration ended when he entered a smaller library tucked back behind a corridor meant for servants’ use.  The room had to have existed as a secondary library, but a quick glance stated that Solas’ pilfering had certainly augmented its inventory.  There was another desk in the back corner that was adorned with countless notes and tomes which revealed why the one in the rotunda had been so clean of late. 

“What are you doing?”

Dorian jumped at the voice that should have been expected.  He swiftly resumed a haughty stance, hoping to add weight to his chiding.  “Discovering misappropriation of Inquisition resources it seems.”

“I doubt that would be the reason you went through all the effort to find this little hide-away.”

The proximity to Solas made his body remember what had passed between them.  His blood called out for the spell that was as intoxicating, as addicting as any drug.  “What have you done to me?”

“Nothing that would have any lasting effect.  Although, I am guessing you think it does.  How long has it been for you?”

Dorian bit his answer out through clenched teeth.  “None of your damn business.”

“I have shown you that there is more out there that you haven’t even begun to study, let alone experience.  It is only natural that you have returned to me, needing more.”  Solas knew a myrid of spells that did compel people to do as the caster bid.  The practice was appalling, especially when all it took was to know a person.  Dorian was a thirsty student and Solas was offering him a chalice in the midst of the desert.  He wanted to see Dorian’s talent expand, to see how far he could reach.  Otherwise it was a pathetic waste that Solas would regret passing by.

“You…aren’t compelling me?  This is all…my own wishes?”  Dorian was surprised and relieved at the same time.  He was not adverse to new adventures, however he did wish to be in full control of his abilities.

“Of course.  You may leave now if you wish.”  Solas held a thoughtful fist against his jaw, his left hand tucked into the elbow of his right.   
  
The craving.  The want, it swirled under Dorian’s skin.  Solas made no advances yet he was open.  His stance, his body movements, all called out to Dorian- _taste me_.  Heat builds.  Dorian’s breathing quickens.  Each time his chest expands he can feel the tightness of lust constricting around him, pressuring him to act.

"I want..."

" _Tsk_!"  Solas unfolded a finger from his fist and tapped it to his cheek.  A smug grin starting on one side of his face.  "Still talking about what you want."

Dorian dropped to his knees, his hands fall in his lap like dead weight.  "No.  I need..."

"Ah.  There it is."  Solas is the epitome of relaxed.  His movements are deliberate and at his own desired pace.  "You feel it consuming you don't you?"  

The Fade pressed against the Veil then bent to Solas' will.  It curled around Dorian's thighs, squeezing while it coiled up to his groin.  Dorian arched where he sat, lifting off the ground, " _A-Ahhh_!"

Solas stood behind Dorian, pulling him up.  Veil flames leapt up to lick and play through Dorian's robes to tease at his sac and swirl at his asshole.   Solas grips him around the chest to counter his wild bucking.  Dorian's nerves were screaming out for more.  He needed friction, some kind of pressure to sate his agony.

Dorian’s only thought was that he was lured into the clutches of a savage that played with his dinner before he consumed it.  He let his mind carry the aura of his body into delirium, a slave to his desires.  Solas was toying with him.  _Maker_ , how he was enjoying being used.  

With great focus, he jerked his arms away from Solas’s hold.  He braced his hands on Solas’ desk, his head lax from his weary muscles.  Solas summoned a similar energy to the one he used a week ago.  This time its purpose was to create a swell of desire that could never peek.  Dorian’s breaths came in swift pants that dried out his mouth causing him to tongue the inside.  Frustration rose within Dorian when the action caused him to realize that he was hungry, he wanted, needed to taste him.  He needed to know how the flavors of Solas’ sweat and precum would combine in his mouth.  Pleasure had never been one sided for Dorian.  He had to know that his partner was enjoying himself as well.  Otherwise, it was pointless. 

Where Dorian’s body cried out for the sensual touch of magic, Solas’ yearned for the touch of skin.  The heat of another person, the pulse of blood flowing beneath the delicate barrier, held no equal on either side of the Veil.  When he held Dorian, he breathed in the other mage’s musk.  Spiced oils and lyrium infused sweat created an aroma that tugged at his loins.  After Dorian extricated himself from his hold, Solas took no offense.  Everything that happened tonight would be entirely up to Dorian.   While the Tevinter took his time at the edge of the desk, Solas sat in his chair, fingers templed in front of his chest.  He waited. 

The moments dragged out, but what was time to Solas?  It was nothing but fuel for the savage fire that solidified his decision to partake in this indulgence.  He had earned a moment of indulgence.  Dorian ran a hand down his moist face then looked over at Solas, his disbelief branded into his features. 

“What do you need Altus?”  Solas’ tone was level, warm.  He used the two words that he knew would resonate in the other man’s mind – _need, Altus._   He was not beyond stroking someone else’s ego when it suited him, but only when it suited him.  Solas grinned broadly, knowing he was manipulating the Tevinter ever so slightly.  Dorian could walk away at any moment, Solas was not so cruel.    

Dorian threw him a cocky grin.  “What I need,” He approached Solas, a bit disheveled but for once, didn’t complain about his appearance.  He placed his hands on the chair’s arms, trapping Solas within.  “is for you to not stop.”

Solas did not move from his spot but his mana reached out for more folds of magic to resume their bombardment of Dorian’s senses.  Dorian sucked in a breath through his teeth, his head jerked back and his hands instinctively found Solas’ thighs.   Unconsciously, Solas’ body reacted by bucking forward, a small moan rose in his throat.  This did not escape Dorian’s notice.  Dorian’s eyes found Solas’.  His lids fluttered with the ebb and flow of the magic that worked on him but he still maintained a focus on Solas.  Dorian bit his lower lip, causing Solas to lick his own.  Dorian took this as his invitation to fall lower between the apostate’s legs.

This was not what Solas had planned or even thought of happening, but he couldn’t stop it now.  He didn’t want to.  The nimble fingers of an artist snaked their way through his robes and palmed his erection.  Another bucking of his hips had him slouch lower in the chair.  Although he had teased Dorian earlier, it had been a long time for him as well. 

Solas could no longer breathe through his nose and resorted to staring open mouthed at the head between his thighs.  A slick flat tongue started at his base and ran up the full length to then swirl at the tip, finishing with his lips to execute a delicate suck.  Solas’ head slammed into the back of his chair.  He had never enjoyed being so wrong in his entire life.  Dorian was no stranger to receiving or giving pleasure. 

Solas’ attention was being pulled in two separate directions as Dorian was relentless in his reciprocation. Solas reached out with a smaller spell to channel his previous work through a ward he kept in the room.  His relief washed through him as he could now fully focus on the intimacy of skin on skin.  Dorian must have noticed the ease of Solas’ tension.  He responded in kind by swallowing Solas’ cock whole, giving a good reason to divert all of his attention on himself.  Solas hitched up slightly in his chair, compelled by his sensitized nerves to react in some manner. Dorian managed a glance up with a mischievous look as he pressed Solas’ cock to the back of his throat, working his throat in a swallowing action as if he were milking the other mage.  Solas’ insides were flaming, bursting at the long forgotten touch of another person.  Dorian changes pace, his lips wrap around Solas’ shaft in long unhurried caresses, his tongue flicking and slurping with each pump of his head. 

Solas reaches down and roughly grabs Dorian’s rumpled hair.  His fingers scraping at the scalp draws a deep moan from Dorain that reverberates round his thick shaft.  Solas focuses his thoughts and changes the flow of magic through the ward before pulling Dorian’s face off of him.   He can see the change in the Tevinter’s expression as the magic changes its purpose to sizzle and pop up and down Dorian’s spine, sparking underneath the skin when it reaches his tailbone. 

“Yes, please.”  Without words, Dorian understood what Solas was asking.  With his hair still in hand, Solas jerked Dorian’s head further away to create space for him to stand.  Dorian stepped back until the desk stopped him.  He leaned backward as he undid the buckles and fasteners to loosen his trousers beneath his robes. 

A feral growl rumbled low in Solas’ chest.  He stalked up to Dorian, cupped his jaw in his left hand then roughly turned his head to one side.  Solas bit down hard on the silken skin of Dorian’s neck, shy of drawing blood.  He was rewarded as Dorian’s voice croaked, “Fuck me, yes!”

Solas kept his hold and spoke into Dorian’s ear, his lips skimming the surface of the lobe.  “Do you better understand the reward of patience?  It is about the hunt, the build of anticipation.”  Solas’ fingers began to dig harshly into Dorian’s skin.  Dorian encouraged the action by wraping an arm around his chest and pulling Solas closer.  “Without that build, what is there to experience in the release?  The subtle denial that promises, keeping it just out of reach, until it finally culminates in the inevitable.”

Another groan as Dorian rocked his hips against Solas.  His need was more than just sex, it was the full experience.  The act while enveloped in a mystical caress that pinched and soothed his nerves in perfect tandem with Solas’ attentions.  Dorian felt as though he were the center of attention at an orgy.  He visualized the experience as ethereal hands and tongues exploring his entire body, finding his delicate spots and then exploiting them.  

Nothing could ever compare to this.  

Stronger hands pressed and turned his body to bend over the desk.  Dorian pushed aside tomes as lay face down, welcoming the hard surface that now supported his weight.  It allowed him to concentrate more on the carnality that was assaulting him.  Physical hands kneaded his ass cheeks, then spread them.  The icy cool of well-oiled fingers sent shivers through him.  With a white knuckled grip, he held on the edge of the desk.  There was a softness that pressed against his entrance, then slicked up and down his crease.  He wanted it, oh, he wanted it so badly he could claw at the wood beneath his fingertips. 




The softness was replaced with the pad of a thumb that made a few slow circles before easing into him, testing his willingness.  An unsteady voice wafted through the euphoria and haze of magic leaving Dorian feeling as if he overdosed on lyrium.  “What do you need Altus?”

“I need…this.”  Dorian squirmed, seeking more stimulation that was quickly denied.  A frustrated growl turned into a resigned sigh.  “I need to be more patient, more open minded.”   There it was.  That is precisely what Solas was looking for, the admission that Dorian’s conceit had denied him opportunities.  It would be a shame to not reward him for his confession.

Dorian’s haggard breathing was exaggerated with him laying against the desk.  The rise and fall of his chest betrayed his desperation.  He didn’t care.  At this point he would gladly beg.  Thankfully, he didn’t need to.  A slow nudge against his entrance turned into a filling pressure within him.  Dorian thought he heard someone cry out.  With more being eased into him, he cried out again, surprised it had been his shout the first time.  Soon, he felt that he was full to the hilt.  Skin slapped together.  It was overwhelming.  He felt crushed, raw with a new lust that he knows he’ll hunger for from this moment on.    He knew there were hands clutching his waist, but he could feel the squeeze and release of a hand on his own throbbing cock.  Another pair of hands pressed against the back of his, fingers twining with his own.  A fist carded through his hair.  This type of Fade manipulation was intense to the point he could no longer process it.  He inched back from the desk to allow his dick plenty of space while also encouraging Solas to continue fucking him. 

A tremor built in Dorian’s legs, rising in intensity to become an uncontrollable shaking.  He wished the desk were more forgiving, he wanted to bury his face, to muffle his satisfaction.  The best he could do was press the side of his jaw down on the surface, turning his head to catch a glance at the fellow mage whose pace had suddenly become urgent, perhaps for his own pleasure, but it gladly met with Dorian’s desperation.

“Yes, Maker please yes!”  Dorian tried to reach back to Solas but his muscles couldn’t obey.  The spell left him completely wrecked.  He had no choice but to submit.  Then Solas came.  In his near drug induced state, he could feel the hot shot, then the telltale overflow drip down off his balls.  That was the push he needed, the permission he didn’t know he waited for.  A true hand gripped him tightly, Dorian yelped in shocked pleasure.

There was another bite to his shoulder.  “I want you to come everywhere for me.”  The predatory bristle in Solas’ voice had Dorian come in thick gushing spurts, a testimony to his involuntary abstinence.  He had only thought his muscles had failed him earlier, now they were non-existent as he needed Solas to help ease him to the floor.  His eyes swam beneath his lids.  He didn’t dare open them, afraid that he would lose his hold on the memory of this experience.  His chest heaved while he waited for his heartbeat to slow.   

When Dorian did collect himself enough to take in his surroundings, he found Solas standing over him, a victorious smirk that looked foreign on the typically stern elf.  Solas’ composure betrayed nothing of the frantic fucking that Dorian had just enjoyed.  "Unfortunately for you, you are too boastful by half.  Fortunately for me, this will all be but a dream when you - wake up."

***

Dorian shot up and casted Veil fire to light the pitch black room.  He was in his quarters, in his bed.  He ripped the sheets off him and did indeed reveal that he had had the most intense dream of his life.  He couldn’t go back to sleep.  He had to remember.  Dorian leapt out of bed and rushed for parchment and quill, hoping that the spell he had seen in his dream bore some similarities to reality.  He had to duplicate it, he just had to!

Hours later, Dorian was dressed, groomed and proudly making his way to breakfast, happy with the progress he had made earlier that morning.  The dream had presented a new way to see how he folded and pierced the Veil to change the flow of the Fade energy he pulled.  The entire prospect was exhilarating to him.  He hadn’t felt so academically satisfied since he was a mere child.  On his way, he passed through the rotunda and found Solas occupied with his paints.

Dorian was not going to pass on the opportunity to taunt the master of the Fade with the prospect that there were areas he _didn’t_ control.  "I had the oddest dream last night with you in it."

Solas picked up on the implications of Dorian’s tone.  “Whatever perversions you conjure in the Fade are your own business.  I would kindly ask that you leave me out of them.”

Solas let the silence between them encourage the idea that he and Dorian had not spoken in days.  Dorian finally conceded that Solas would not engage in any banter amusing enough to delay his meal.  He took his leave with no further antagonizing. 

Solas continued mixing his paints, aware that as Dorian wondered the castle the vividness of their encounter would fade and by the end of the day he will have convinced himself that it all was truly was an imaginative encounter that was constructed by the Fade, nothing more than an exotic fantasy that would be impossible within the limitations of the waking world. 

Having Cole around was useful.  Solas played with the memory spell the spirit often used until he perfected it well enough that he was comfortable using it.  It would not do for their encounter to be anything more than a perceived fantasy.  Besides, he didn’t want Dorian to remember where second library was.  Every decent tome would go missing and Solas couldn’t abide by that. 


	2. Ruined within the Ruins

The following weeks fell into a similar pattern with only a few drastic interruptions when the Inquisitor and her party ventured away from Skyhold.  As each day passed, Dorian was less of an irritation for Solas.  He was still overly flamboyant and cocksure, but he would at times prove to be capable of engaging in theoretical discussions with some modicum of seriousness.  There were even days they could pass an amenable afternoon playing with the theories.  One would cast while the other watched talking the caster through unexpected difficulties encountered. 

Solas attributed this small change to the kernel of knowledge he had allowed the man to ‘discover’.  It was an ancient secret, but Dorian had already been so close to discovering it on his own, it didn’t bother Solas to shove him in the right direction.  Solas was unsure how he felt about the days they spent in silence reading across from the rotunda from one another.  Recently, Dorian adopted the habit of using his couch when pursuing Solas’ tomes.  He hated that he would often find his mind wondering while his eyes drifted from his own work to the mage lounged on his couch.  The excessive leather straps and buckles confined Dorian’s toned body as if protecting a valuable treasure.  The opulent Tevinter fashion accentuated all of Dorian’s best features, exposing hints of bronzed flesh that begged to be touched. 

Or tasted. 

Solas would have fleeting moments that reminded him how exotic and exhilarating their time in the library had been.  He pushed them aside as quickly as they surfaced. 

One evening, a light thud stirred Solas from his painting.  Dorian’s limp arm over the edge of the couch pointed to the source of the noise.  With an irritated sigh, Solas crossed the rotunda to retrieve the unintentionally abused tome.  Bending over to pick it up from the floor, he caught a trace of vanilla embedded in the smell of suede.  Of course the pampered mage would wear a rich Antivian variety instead of the rougher, harsh smelling leather found in Ferelden.  The combination pleased Solas’ senses, invoking a calm relaxation.  Curiosity provoked his hand into Dorian’s hair.  It was just as feather soft as he remembered, once he weaved his fingertips beneath the styling oils. 

The touch was mildly innocent, however the thought of exploiting the man’s unconsciousness sent a thrill through Solas’s chest.  He smirked at the dark fantasy his thoughts happily indulged in.  Solas felt youthful near the Altus, hot-blooded and reckless. 

He shook his head dismissively as he retreated to the safe distance his desk afforded.    

***

“My dearest, loveliest Inquisitor.  I am constantly inspired by the beauty and finesse with which you wield your bow and arrow.  However, I swear by Andraste’s flaming sword if I have to kill one more giant I may attempt to have you choke on them!”  Exasperation and boredom from the monotony of genocide was peeling Dorian’s nerves down to the bone. 

Ellana Lavellan laughed off his threat.  Her nimble legs sprung her up to swing from a low hanging branch, which she used to pull herself up through the sprawling oak.  The party waited patiently for her to climb to a useful height that would allow her to scout out the area. After a few moments, falling leaves preceded her descent then drifted like green snow around her when she landed.  “Well, much to Dorian’s relief, I couldn’t find any more giants nearby.”

Dorian was leaning against a tree when he mocked her announcement.  “I’m certain that it wasn’t for a lack of trying.”

“There are some ruins to the west.  They might be interesting to explore before we return to camp.”

“Of all the shitty-piss-arse-titfucking…”  Sera was kind enough to walk away from the party to spare them her loquacious expression of disinterest.  She was too ticked off to remain still. 

Ellana sneered openly at Sera’s back.  “Or not.”

“I hate to be your killjoy, but I agree with Buttercup, though not in so many sweetened words…it’s been a long day.  Couldn’t we come back tomorrow?”  Varric tossed down a sack full of cut herbs for emphasis.  Carrying supplies _and_ fighting giants was a terrible combination. 

“Or not at all!”  Considering how loud Sera needed to shout, it was impressive that she heard him. 

“I’m not going to lie, Boss, I can think of _much_ better things to do than fumbling around in the dark and looking at old shit.”  The Iron Bull lingered only briefly on the one stressed word, but the way his eye slicked over her body, Ellana’s mind plunged into the sea of depravity and her body shook from the chilly, sensual waters. 

“It’s settled.  We head back to camp now.”  Impatiently, she forgot about the ruins and lightly skipped to join Bull’s side as the party turned for the Inquisition camp. 

“Inquisitor.  If I may, I would like to scout the ruins while there is still daylight.”  Ellana glanced at Solas over her shoulder with a less than surprised look.  “I will go alone and it may prevent our returning back here tomorrow.”

“Friggin’ yeah!  Let boring elfy-mage take care of it!”  Sera was enthused with the idea of not coming back at all.

“I don’t like the idea of leaving you out here alone.”  Ellana’s feet stumbled forward from Bull shoving her at the suggestion of doing anything other than finding privacy at the camp. 

“You needn’t worry a bit.”  Dorian pressed off from his resting spot to walk up to Solas.  “I will gladly sacrifice my time to ensure that our homely Fade expert isn’t mistaken for a ragged scavenger.”

Seeing the golden opportunity, Bull seized it.  “Good.  We’ll see you in a few hours.”  Grabbing Ellana’s arm, he dragged her away from the two mages as Solas stood open mouthed to protest the pairing.   

Dorian nudged him playfully.  “Oh, don’t look so sullen.  I’m certain that my witty banter will more than make up for your inability to appreciate the pains I go through to look this good.”

Inside the ruins, there wasn’t much that scavengers hadn’t already carted out of the dark halls.  Much to Solas’ surprise, Dorian was helpful in pointing out hidden runes and even spoke intelligently about ancient elven artifacts.

“You know, I don’t sit with a book in my hands all day to pull off the ‘seductive scholar’ look.  However it may appear to the contrary, the attention I place on my looks is not a means of compensation for my intelligence.”  Solas kept his focus on the artifact they found under a pile of rubble.  No response was the safest choice since Solas had no wish to stroke the man’s ego, the last time he had done so, they both lost control.  Cursing himself once more, Solas forced his thoughts away from the trill of lust that shot through him when Dorian said ‘seductive’. 

There was little concern for him to continue dwelling on the Tevinter when they were suddenly attacked by four monstrous spiders.  Most of the battle was a blur.  Both men fighting with backs pressed together to gain some ground in order to transition to offensive attacks.  The fight wasn’t exceedingly difficult, but would have been easier if they had a warrior or rogue to finish off the stunned creatures.  As it was, one of them lashed out viciously, striking Solas to the ground and knocking the wind from him.  Dorian stepped backward so that he stood over the injured mage, protecting him as best he could while defending himself.  Solas downed two lyrium potions to replenish his mana, then swept the spiders back with a massive mind blast.  This gave them the chance they needed to take them on one by one.     

The searing pain in his chest caused Solas to suck his breath in harshly.  He slapped at empty pouches on his belt before calling out to Dorian.  “Do you have a healing potion?”

The familiar flask reserved for healing potions flew through the air from Dorian’s hand to Solas’.  Without a second thought, he downed the liquid, belatedly realizing it tasted like elfroot but was certainly _not_ a healing potion. The room started to swim around him, his balance scrambled to find center, eventually giving up and Solas tumbled to the ground.  He sat, cradling his head.  Solas couldn’t remember the last time he overdosed on lyrium.  “Why would you do this?  What is wrong with you?”

“Me?”  Dorian’s haughty tone was in full force with his feigned innocence.  The tone grated on Solas’s nerves but his lyrium drunk state kept his anger from surfacing.  “I have been nothing but patient.  Is that not what you wanted to impart on me?”

Suspicion clenched at Solas’ chest.  With concentrated effort, he drew his eyes up to meet Dorain’s.  The Tevinter leaned lazily against his staff.  “Can’t you at least marvel at how I waited over a month before taking advantage of you?  Did you really think that I would pass on the opportunity to study an unbound spirit?” 

The revelation has Solas’ eyes pop open wide.  Dorian waved a flippant hand at Solas.  “Don’t even think to get all righteous with me, everything was fully consensual.  I made certain that Cole understood what we were doing.  An unbound spirit is an unknown and I didn’t want to risk any unexpected _unpleasantness_.”  The emphasis that Dorian placed on the last word could imply any manner of things whether great or small, permanent or temporary.  The danger was real and Dorian was no fool. 

Solas had been a fool.  He pinched his eyes shut as his physical pain increased with his mental chastisement.  “I should have known better.”

“Ah, but you didn’t!”  Dorian’s tone switched from admonishing to gleeful.  “I protected myself from that impressive little ‘forgetful’ spell that Cole employs.  To know that you tried to use it on me, well…”

“So, you’ve compromised my ability to defend myself.  What now?”

“We both know that there are two ways to fix your little problem before it becomes too uncomfortable.”  It was already uncomfortable.  The lyrium pulsed thickly through his veins, pressing outward, needing a release, a purpose.

Dorian set his staff against the wall and walked next to Solas.  He crouched by his side and spoke over Solas’ shoulder in his favorite teasing timbre.  “My question is, which will it be?”

  
Solas’ sweat was coming in large drips.  The heat in his body muddled his ability to think clearly.  "Dorian, please."  

"So tell me, how fondly do you recall our last night together?"

It was agony.  The lyrium felt like fire.  He had to flush his system.  "Quickly, please Dorian!"

"You tormented _me_.  You should expect no less in return.”  Dorian initiated the first contact by placing a hand on Solas’ baldhead and circling it dominatingly to bottom of the elf’s jaw.  “Answer me."

Solas tried to call out into the Fade, to find a spirit who would help him.  He was overburdened with managing his pain which made his efforts sloppy.  There was no other option but to lay bare his honesty.  His words were shaky, but he savored how his talking had Dorian’s hand move across his skin.  "It was one of the most memorable nights that I've experienced within my lifetime."  

A half smile rewarded his forced confession, but it wasn’t enough.  The man wanted more.  Solas’ breathing was labored, his eyes floating in his skull.  He finally submitted himself fully to Dorian's demands.  With a subdued tone, he begged.  "There hasn't been a day that I haven't thought of that night."  

Discomfort morphing into pain within seconds.  This was taking too long.  He screamed involuntarily.  "ARE YOU GOING TO HELP ME OR NOT?!"

Dorian still took his time.  Wrapping one hand around Solas’ neck, he pulled the elf closer to press playful kisses at the base of Solas’ neck.  “What do you need Hahren?”  Dorian intentionally provoked him with similar words he had used to undo the Tevinter those many weeks ago. 

Violence painted Solas’ vision in bright red.  Leaping from the ground he attacked Dorian with the little strength the was able to control.  Dorian crashed to the ground easily from his crouched position.  With blurred vision Solas tore at the straps about Dorian’s waist like an impatient child opening a name-day gift.  Any reservations he still held were drowned out by the lyrium screaming within him.  Once Dorian’s semi-hard length fell free from his absurd clothing.  Solas captured it with his lips and hummed a pleasured relief with a full mouth.  The contact instantly pulled the excess lyrium from Solas and into Dorian.  The pain was fading while fevered lust boiled. 

Dorian trembled under the haphazardly rough contact.  Thick, labored pants fell from his open mouth.  Dorian spread his legs wide to welcome the attention, his hips thrusting forward as Solas’ tongue slid along his now fully hard length.  He’d been with men countless times, yet with Solas it was different.  The separation that Solas had intended to wedge between them with the ‘forgetful’ spell only fueled Dorian’s desire to have more of the elf.  Nothing tastes sweeter than a forbidden fruit.  He propped his torso up with his elbows behind him and watched at Solas’ head bobbed rhythmically, slowly to milk away the pent up desire.  Dorian couldn’t help but to laugh out loud at how the scene gave the impression he was face fucking the Fade out of that smooth head. 

Reaching out, Dorian’s fingers lightly touched Solas’ face to give the mage pause.  Dorian used the opportunity to rearrange himself and lay alongside the elf.  Solas resumed his work on the Altus’ member.   Meanwhile, Dorian removed the fabric that kept him from his craving.  Once exposed, Dorian plundered the other mages genitals like a feast before a starved man.  The smooth skin still held the same taste that hinted at the wilds of the forest and Fade energy that he remembered.  The added bonus of absorbing stray lyrium caused Dorian’s nerves to spark throughout his body.  He needed more.  Frantic hands made quick work of the few remaining straps, he rolled back and plucked at his own ties.  “Get that filth off.”

Solas only answered with an irritated grunt, but he did as he was told.  His body still hummed with lyrium and Dorian knew he was unable to stop at this juncture.  Both naked, he rolled back to Solas who gripped him by the ass to pull him into his waiting mouth.  Staring at the elf’s body that was pillowed by the discarded clothing, Dorian passionately dragged his fingers along the supple flesh of Solas’ thighs.

“Maker preserve me, you are magnificent.”  Eagerly, Dorian pumped Solas’s cock against his tongue, placing delightful drops of precum on his discerning palate.  “Your taste…it’s fucking addictive!”

Dorian released Solas’ member to press his face in the softly ridged velvet of Solas’ ball sac.  Taking one in his mouth, delicately pressing against the delicious orb, Dorian savored every little moan that escaped from the apostate.  His lips chewed softly, eliciting thick moans and hitched breathing from his partner.  Deft fingers worked their way around to the Solas’ backside, sliding down his perfectly shaped crevice.  He gripped Solas’ cheek firmly before letting his thumb explore Solas’ tight hole.  It was indeed _tight_.   

Dorian paused with a smile admonished the elf with a teasing tone.  "Oh, my.  It appears you've never received the same attention that you are so willing to give others.  What shall we do about that?”  

The scholarly, controlled tone was gone, replaced by desperate groans.  “I don’t care what you do.  Just don’t stop!” 

Dorian reached off to his side with his free hand to clutch the knapsack he always carried.  Among the miscellaneous items was the coconut oil they used for cooking while camping.  “Desperate times…” 

Dorian prided himself with the immediate reaction he received from Solas when he pressed an oil slick finger deep into his fine ass.  He did regret that he was no longer receiving any attention, but the pleading moans were well worth the personal sacrifice. 

Another finger followed and brought shivers to the elven mage that tremored through him at full force.  Nothing was comparable to this.  Dorian’s finger slipped inside with perfect grace, knowing precisely how to move and where to touch to set Solas’ nerves aflame.  This was only two fingers, leaving Solas to wonder at what new heights Dorian’s cock bring him to?  Solas couldn’t linger on the idea.  His mind shattered when Dorian’s tongue swirled at the sensitive skin between his balls and asshole.  He pulled himself away from Dorian’s delectable fingers, rushing to mount Dorian.  Their cocks were pressed blissfully between their taught stomachs, both pulsing with pent up need for release. 

Dorian laid flat on his back with a confident grin plastered on his face.  He reached down between the makeshift missionary position to firmly grab both dicks as best he could.  “I want you to spill all over me.”

Solas chuckled while he began to rock his hips so that their cocks would rub together in the other man’s hand.  “What if I were to say ‘no’?”

“I’m an Altus, I am never denied _anything_.”  Dorian tightened his grip and pushed upward to add further friction then rubbing his thumb lightly over his cockhead.  Solas was so very close that he had no choice but to gasp in hurried breaths like an animal while his thrusts in Dorian’s hand became more frantic.  Dorian came first, his face contorted to the point that one could mistake the man to be in pain.  Solas loved watching the orgasm take hold of the other man, turning him to utter mush while he spilled his seed.  

The sight sent Solas over the edge.  He ferociouslycried out his completion when he exploded six or seven thick shots all over Dorian’s chest, adding to the glistening mess that Dorian had already created. 

Solas braced himself over Dorian and they shared in each other’s strained breathing.  Solas turned his face away, Dorian grabbed his neck, pressing his thumb hard on his windpipe, forcing him to look back.  “You can’t simply turn your head and have this disappear.”

Solas swiped his hand against Dorian’s arm to break the connection.  He pressed against the ground to rise with effortless ease.  He stared down at Dorian, fully composed and mindless of their shared nudity.  “Whatever this is, it needs to stop.  Neither of us benefits if it continues.”

“Really?”  Dorian swirled his finger in the accumulation of their carnality that remained on his chest.  An overly pleased smile made him speak slow, his exasperation lowering his voice.  “This delightful composition speaks otherwise.”

 Irritated, Solas tried again to put distance between them, between their mutual want.  “This is only a moment’s respite, a small distraction from the unavoidable chaos of the world around us.  There is nothing to be had in the long term.”

“Haha!  You are rather adorable when you don’t want to be.  Do I look to be on bended knee with a flowery proposal on my lips?  This ‘distraction’ as you wish to call it suits me well.  We may keep this to ourselves if you wish, I’m accustomed to such arrangements.”  Dorian rolled on his side and propped his head upon his hand to look up at Solas with greater ease.  “I suggest you make things easier on yourself and simply accept that I’m irresistible.” 

Solas remained quiet.  This was never part of the plan.  There was no reason for him to indulge in such mortally base impulses.  No reason other than Dorian was temping beyond words.  He voiced his justification, although it was more for himself than his newly acquired sex partner.  “We could die any day.  We probably will die when we face Corypheus again.”

Dorian lounged back flat on the ground, tucking his hands behind his head, enjoying his post tumble high with closed eyes.  “Then we shall die with no regrets and inordinately satisfied libidos.”


	3. The Moments Between

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Wolfiewhispers for ensuring this chapter was coherent and simply lovely!

If discretion were an art form, Dorian would be the master to whom all others would be compared but be found sorely lacking.  It might even be possible that the Iron Bull was unaware of their trysts - admittedly due to the fact he had a difficult time removing his hands from Lavellan’s ass, or waist, or breasts.  He had no shame and she basked in the attention.  Their affection was freely and prominently exchanged, playfully placed on display.  Bull showed the very depth of his reverence for her when he faithfully protected her in battle, heedless of his own safety.

However,  for Dorian and Solas, their playfulness was expressed in a very different way.  Their rough treatment of each other in hurried moments fanned the flames of their lust, adding to the explosion at the end -  and if this roughness provided a smokescreen for signs of anything more meaningful,  so much the better.  It became a game.  One that Dorian rather secretly enjoyed.  Solas would always be the one to start it, to hint.  It was much better that way.  Dorian enjoyed that the stoic and reserved elf came to him.  In Tevinter it had been a chore for Dorian to seek out a willing partner who could be considered reliably discrete.  Being sought out pushed aside the lifetime of doctrine that tried to teach him his desires were wrong, that he was less of a man for it.  The feeling of being _wanted_ made the painstaking efforts at concealment worth it. 

Solas preferred initiating things between them, relishing in the power he held over Dorian.  This power was a sweet honey to Solas.  He drank it in greedily when he saw Dorian’s welcoming upturned lip, the way he stroked his mustache and then the explosion of delight in the man’s eyes.  Spirited jealously and years of repressed passion was the common ground that had fueled their mutual hunger, the need for empty release. 

Solas enjoyed stroking the Tevinter’s ego, watching his body react to carefully chosen words was nearly as enjoyable as having his fingers float over Dorian’s bronze skin.  Even the arrogant, flippant comebacks were curiously amusing.  And,  for Dorian,  the fact that their trysts were snatched in secret,  hidden,  corners,  only added a heady excitement to the whole affair.

Imagine the unexpected surprise when their relationship began to change after a bitter exchange in the Hinterlands.

***

Using information provided by Dorian that was followed up by Leliana’s people, the Inquisitor and her team were hunting down and eliminating packs of Venatori tucked away in remote areas -  much to Dorian’s delight.  He viewed it as cleansing the Imperium of cultist extremists, nothing but a cancer that needed to be brutally excised to dissuade others from attempting a similar mistake.

Killing this final group however, proved to be a trauma beyond Dorian's worst imaginings.  He knew the poison had to be stopped if the Imperium was to have any chance of the future for which he so yearned,  yet the path was bitter and bloody.  Each Venatori had been a member of his inner circle back home; a group that pursued shared ideals of reforming the Imperium.  He wouldn’t have dreamed it possible, but it appeared that the perceived camaraderie was merely an illusion hiding a dark and rotted secret. 

Ellana was the first to notice his behaviour;  unusually hanging away to one side and his habitual witty banter noticeably absent.  “Dorian?  Are you alright?  Did you know one of them?”

Head hanging low and with his mouth twisted into an ironic sneer,  Dorian pointed to each in turn.  “Aulus, Tullius, Drubal, Dunstan, Kleisthene, Rilienus.  Yes, I knew them all.  Unlike the last two groups we eliminated, these…these were close to me.” Dorian half turned away as he struggled to regain his usual suave,  collected manner. 

Rilienus lay in the grass.  Never again would Dorian admire the sweet words that once spilled from his lips.  His broken body from which all grace had fled,  filled Dorian with a grief that was like physical pain.   He had been so serious in his assertions, studiously finding legal loopholes to exploit, and even drafting legislation with Dorian for presentation to the lower chambers.  Worst of all, Dorian had believed in him, in them, their cause. 

 _Was this the change they actually craved?  Was it that much easier to glide under the wing of grasping power?_ 

In a fit of angered betrayal he swung the head of his staff and smashed in Rilienus’ beautiful face.  The skull made a sickening cracking sound before chunks of red spongy brain matter flew free,  lying like wet jewels on the grass.  Dorian made a sound halfway between a howl of anger and a shriek of grief and turned to see Ellana and the rest of his companions looking on in shock,  disturbed at his out of character behaviour. 

No longer a pretty mask for the corrupted soul within.

Disgusted, Solas viewed the mess of bodies with a sneer.  “It is hardly a surprise to find a Tevinter behave as a villainous snake which weaves its ways into the everyday, eventually corrupting everything around them.  Their thirst for power knows no bounds.”

“ **You shut up!** ”  Dorian spun on Solas with lightning speed.  “You and your damned answers!  They are…were…we, we spoke of a better Tevinter, avenues of change…”  Dorian began to choke on his words, his emotions jumping ahead of his tongue.  “As if you have a.. any idea what it is like to dedicate yourself whole-heartedly to a cause.. and then find out it was for nothing!  To not only watch it fall apart, but to have destroyed it with your own hands!  All of the others have been murdered or disappeared.  This, alone!”  Dorian spread his arms wide to indicate the bloody splattering of corpses, then drew a flourishing hand down the center of his body.  “Is all that remains.”

Solas snorted at Dorian’s dramatics.  “You cannot possibly delude yourself into thinking…”

“Into thinking what, _exactly_?!”  Actual spittle frothed from his mouth when he lunged toward Solas, stopping only a breath away.  Dorian held there a moment before he gathered himself and took a step backward, assuming an eerie, detached calm. “Don’t you fucking come near me.”

A swish of robes shielded Dorian from any further comments as he stalked into the thick woods, his brooding louder than any dragon’s roar,  his silence more poignant.

Varric suddenly appeared at Solas’ side.  “If you were looking for that little line in the sand that you shouldn’t have crossed, well,  that was it.”

Instead of looking down at the dwarf, Solas merely continued to watch the pitch-black robes slowly blend into the woods until there was no longer any movement within view. 

“Solas, I think we should give him some space.”  For the first time since he had known her, Ellana sounded timid, unsure. 

Solas didn’t look at her features to try and verify her emotions.  As much as he delighted in goading Dorian, as much as Iron Bull teased him, and even the derisive accusations of being a blood mage that were made within Dorian’s earshot had been brushed off with graceful bravado.  Dorian never lost his composure, not like this.

“I will go to him, lethallan.  This was my doing.”  Ellana made some comment, perhaps a protest, but it was immediately lost as Solas was too busy harshly berating himself,  oblivious to anything beyond his own thoughts.  He walked quickly through the edge of the trees,  leaving his companions behind.

He was somewhat surprised to find Dorian calmly watching the flowing eddies of a river.  The lean figure slumped against a boulder gave the impression that a set of robes were hung on a hook instead of hiding a man nursing a bruised and bleeding soul. 

Dorian spoke at the crack of a twig since Solas had made no attempt at stealth.  “Should you desire to plunge a knife into my back I wish you luck in finding a free space.  Seems its rather popular at the moment.”

“Dorian…If you will permit me, I would apologize for my ill-considered remarks.”

Whipping his head around to Solas, his eyes were rimmed with red as they strained to the limit in an attempt to stay dry, a trick that Dorian had perfected while growing up.  He spent his whole life under his father’s roof learning to hide his feelings.  Such a farce can only hold for so long before it spills over. 

The pain of betrayal that marred his features and his open grief wounded Solas to see such a caring man suffer so.  “I have become too accustomed to thinking of you as an admirable, respectable companion, wholly disassociating you from the rumored archetype of your countrymen.”

“But it isn’t all scurrilous fabrications, is it?  Rumors float on people’s tongues for a reason.”  Dorian’s moustache quivered as he turned his mouth down.

“No, ma falon.  Only the spread of ignorance does that, and I am a guilty party to that act.  Please, forgive me.”

“Damn Ellana.  Damn her for filling my head with these optimistic ideals, shaping the world, inspiring me with dreams of the impossible!”  Dorian scoffed a bitter laugh.  His movements lacked strength, evidence that his internal turmoil was physically draining him.  “At least now I know why the news from Tevinter ceased suddenly.”

Dorian’s self deprecation touched something in Solas.  “I am sorry for the dissolution of your network.”

Straightening up,  Dorian turned, eyes blazing as they spilled over.  “No!  That is not the whole of it!  It’s the false friendships, the fair weather companions.  Am I not worth…”  Dorian dammed his romantic words behind clenched teeth, then twisted them to hide his preposterous ideals.  “This shows me that I can’t ever be close to anyone, I'll never have a person to call friend.  That I can’t _feel_ for anyone.  Is that my fate?  To forever yearn for what can never be?”

“You speak of the way the Inquisitor changes the world.  She merely faces an easy target, a monster that is new and frightening.  A sudden change that disrupted the steady flow of things.”  Solas used his staff to nudge Dorian’s shoulder, causing him to raise his eyes once more.  “You face a far greater challenge; you must tear down a millennia of tradition, pry open eyes, tear into hearts and reveal the insidious corruption to which they have become blind.  That, ma falon, is more than admirable and makes you worthy of every joy this life has to offer.” 

Dorian swallowed hard and couldn’t trust himself to respond appropriately in kind.  Tenderly, he tried to reassume his mask of indifference.  “Tearing into hearts does sound rather fun.”

“Ma falon.”  Solas kept his piercing expression.  Dorian wanted to squirm, to free himself from the unfamiliar and terrifying touch of compassion.  There was never a moment in his life when someone hadn’t complimented him enthusiastically about his talents, his wit, charm, or anything he applied himself to, but none of those platitudes held the same intense meaning as Solas' words did in this moment.  Dorian jerked his head away, feeling inadequate and incapable of hiding it.

With inhuman-like reflexes, Solas pushed on Dorian’s shoulder again with the staff and grabbed at his other,  forcefully, pinning the Tevinter against the cold stone of the boulder.  A smug smile spread gently over the elf’s face as he planted a foot between Dorian’s legs to keep him from escaping.  “You cannot simply turn your head and have me disappear.”

Their faces were scarcely a fist apart, their bodies pressed together, both sets of eyes were glazed, heavy with intent as they slicked appreciative sweeps over the other man’s features.   Dorian sighed and leaned his head forward, shrinking the distance to a finger width.  “Oh, how you must enjoy flinging my words back at me.”

“I do.”  Solas pressed his body closer, an unmistakable erection pressing into Dorian’s thigh causing him to roll his silver eyes into the back of his head with a seductive hiss.  “When they are needed to remind you of what burns true in your heart.  You have noble intentions that you support in deed.  You are a rare gift unto this world and are deserving of... respect.”

A tilt of his head and Dorian’s lips were so close that a bead of sweat would have connected them. 

“Solas.”  A deeper voice quietly laced with an intentionally thicker Tevene accent curled Solas’ toes.  “Are you flirting with me?”

“No.”  Solas wet his lips with a slow lick of the tongue and in so doing, also skimmed over Dorian’s bottom lip.  “Merely stating the obvious.”

There they held.  Neither knowing what the other man thought, while warring within himself with what he felt. 

Solas stepped back, sending Dorian staggering forward with a suppressed whimper.  Dorian took Solas’ quickly offered hand, using the elf to brace himself.  “Change takes time.  As with all things, you must be patient as it learns to grow, sometimes stumbling along the way, but it can happen...if you really want it... ”

Curious, probing eyes peered into Solas’. 

Oh, how he wanted to ask.

Solas burned to answer.

Instead, they let their hands fall apart and walked amicably back to the encampment. 

***

Dorian was long accustomed to a dalliance wherein his lover would bask in his glory, shout empty words during their tumble, then gather up clothing in the dark before making a hasty retreat.

He kept telling himself, ‘That's how it should be.  That's all I can ask.’

It shouldn't be wanting to spend time together, shared enthusiasm, long nights of magical theory that led to filling early morning hours with practicum.  The sessions’ plutonic tone faded slowly.  After the Hinterlands, by unspoken agreement, they now shared the same side of Solas’ desk. 

Each day they stood closer and closer.  Eventually their robes would brush with each shift in weight, every little movement.  Dorian never admitted,  how he longed to feel the light pull at his robes or how he was hyper aware of Solas’ every breath.  Each time, his mind elaborated on the fantasy of Solas turning the contact into a forceful ripping motion, wresting Dorian to his knees, naked and desperate.  The crowning act would be Solas capturing his mouth in his, something he knew would never happen.  It was difficult to concentrate most days since Solas moved often. 

A tilt of the head, a turn of his body, Solas moved constantly to try and hide the flush in his ears.  He couldn’t help it.  Dorian’s enthusiasm was a rare beauty that added to his fine, noble features.  Solas had given up seeking for ways to dislike the Tevinter.  Dorian grew up to a life of opulence, luxury, privilege and yet managed to come out of it with a sense of honor and duty that was separate from blind political motivation.  Admiration sadly fell short of what he felt.  So pathetically short. 

Just as their time together evolved, so did the sex.  No longer were words harsh or hands punitive.

_“You Shems and your ridiculous obsessions.  I will make you take what you need.”_

_“I simply love how you feral little elves are so energetic and nimble!”_

Utterances became mild, soon they were consistently adoring as they flowed from panting mouths to collide on damp skin.

_“No, don’t stop.  Yes, there.  I want to taste you.”_

_“Please, hold me tighter, go slower.  Vehendis!  Don’t let this end.”_

Their encounters shifted from dark corners in stolen moments, to bedrooms for lazy hours, the sun throwing golden rays on their entwined bodies through the high arched windows.  Malicious bites melted into frisky nips.  Hot skin welcomed delicate fingers and gentle caresses.  The change came, but never reached the completion that each man wanted. 

The craving hid under the surface, the confession tucked under a tongue, eyes pleaded to deaf ears. 

 _That is not what he wants.  I can be happy with this._  

Both men erected this lie like a barrier, trying to protect his heart.  Neither was aware the other wanted nothing more than to be the other man’s shield as they cradled the delicate organ which was now such a significant part of the changing landscape of their soul. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma Falon - My dear friend


	4. Just a Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Wolfie Whispers for her beautiful editing!

Adamant was a nightmare beyond any imagining.  Demons were rampant and as Solas cut them down, he mourned the loss of each violated and abused spirit.  When the battle was disrupted by a dragon, he thought things couldn’t possibly get worse.

But they did.

Seeing Dorian disappear with the others who fought at the Inquisitor’s side ripped him asunder.  Fighting like a man possessed, he cut a path to the last place he had seen him.  Others joined him.

“Where’s the Inquisitor?”  Turning on Commander Cullen, breathless with pain and shock, Solas found that in that moment, as much as he knew that the Inquisitor was necessary, he couldn’t care less where she was. 

“I don’t know!” He spat and turned quickly away to hide the grief which threatened to consume him. 

Cassandra raised her eyebrows at the retort and as the others regrouped, Solas found himself looking down at a vertiginous drop, wishing at that moment to do nothing more than let himself fall.  He stared unblinking as the wind snatched away thin tears, filled with loss and regret for those words which now would remain forever unuttered.

***

A few days had passed since the return from Adamant and yet that moment of loss remained sharply in Solas’ thoughts.  Standing at his desk, Solas weighed his emotions and thought back to when Dorian had been snatched from him, prodding the memory like a fresh bruise.  He glanced at Dorian who sat reading across from him.  A book held up in one hand, legs crossed and his entire posture exuding confidence, Solas couldn’t recall at which point he’d stopped shying away from staring at the attractive man.  Working in such close proximity, his eyes were irresistibly drawn to Dorian’s pleasing lines and elegant features, and when their eyes met something inside him quivered with longing. 

Awhile ago, Dorian randomly acted on a whim and moved to the first floor of the rotunda.  Another table joined Solas’ desk, although this one was a finely carved Orlesian affair, which together with Dorian’s sumptuously upholstered favorite chair, put Solas’ simple furniture to shame.   The arrangement worked well with the two of them facing each other to facilitate conversations, experiments and stolen glances.  Both desks were adorned with their tomes, notes and a handful of artifacts.  Their two differing styles clashed where the pieces of furniture met.  The way the objects mingled reminded Solas of how different they were and yet he had never found himself so in unison with anyone.  Contemplating the man across the desks, Solas found that his life would be decidedly less vibrant without him.

“A copper for your thoughts?” Dorian’s voice brought Solas back from his reverie.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he frowned when he met Dorian’s eyes, staying silent.

“You’re not seriously going to begrudge me the fact that I walked the Fade and you did not?”  Sitting up straight, Dorian slipped a ribbon into his book before closing it, then waved it at Solas as he spoke.  “Really, there’s no call to be so childish.” 

Rising from his seat, Dorian strolled with eloquence to stand behind the elf.  Lowering his voice in a manner that Solas had learned to mean Dorian had _other_ things on his mind, Dorian murmured gently over his neck.  “Shall I describe it to you?  Recount the way it vibrated through my body?” he clutched Solas’ waist and smoothed his hands up his ribs as though to demonstrate the sensation.  Solas arched into the touch.  “Describe how everything sang with the power of _pure_ magic?”

Teasing, flirting, Dorian easily fell back into their once familiar pattern as though the past few days had not been of any great significance but Solas could not forget Adamant and, remembering, his body stiffened and fists clenched.  Dorian sensed the bottled tension and came from behind to meet the man’s eyes.  “Solas, is everything alright?”

Solas’ heart felt as though it would break at the genuine concern in his friend’s eyes.  Dorian cared.  He DID care.  The Tevinter’s stalwart passion for righting the world grew from his empathy for others, his determination to make life better.  Even if it began with one person at a time, he would nurture that change.

With worry apparent in the line of his jaw, Solas declared; “When you fell into the fissure, I was not confident the Herald would bring you back.”   He closed his eyes tightly, trying to pinch away the sting of the recalled memory.  “When the team returned and you were not among them at first…I was…concerned for you, ma falon.”

“My, aren’t we being particularly charming this evening.”  Dorian forced a pleasant half-smile in an attempt to infect Solas with some cheer.  “I am still available for you to enjoy.  It’s not necessary to lavish me with such sentiment.” 

A smile brought creases to the edges of Solas’ eyes, thankful that death had not deprived him of Dorian’s company.  “Perhaps not, but that does not mean you are undeserving of it.”

Dorian clapped the elf on the shoulder with a carefree laugh.  “Haha!  Only you could craft such inspiring compliments within that stern demeanor of yours.  It’s what I love best about you.” 

Impulsively, Dorian leaned in and pecked a kiss on Solas’ lips.

Instantly, his face flushed, Dorian drew back in shock.  “I-I…excuse me.  I believe that I have had…too much to drink.”  Turning away he made to leave, but Solas grabbed his arm, his fingers firmly pressed into the fine robes.

Looking into his eyes, Solas declared, “You haven’t had anything to drink.”

Embarrassed, Dorian looked down: “This…is a mistake.  I’m sorry.  I know that sort of…intimacy is not what you want.”

“If it is a mistake, it is on both our parts.”

“Then what is it you are trying to say?  You’ll forgive my lapse in judgment?  Let’s forget this ridiculous incident ever happened, hmm?”

“Never.”

Downcast, Dorian made an attempt at bravado, choosing to lash out in outrage.  “This is absurd!  I have grown far too accustomed to the benefits of your company to be cast aside now.  Will you have me remove my things from this study, as though we are a pair of feuding lovers in a domestic dispute?”  Dorian gestured dramatically at his lush red chair.  “I simply refuse to cart that heavy thing back up the stairs.”

At Dorian’s display, Solas felt the anxiety begin to leave him.  Solas had to chuckle at the conjured image of Dorian doing any type of heavy lifting.  “You didn’t bring it down in the first place, Blackwall did.”

“And it still bears some of his equine odor.  It’s disturbing how often I catch a whiff of it.  Regardless, I will not risk any further rustic contamination.”  Dorian threw his hands up and paced around the desk, which completely failed to still his churning insides.

Solas folded his arms, his stance and expression mocking Dorian’s dramatics.  “After all this time together, still so impatient.  I’m somewhat disappointed that you are still so quick to make assumptions, but the way you engage yourself, that fiery passion, it’s fascinating to experience.” 

This was not the reaction Dorian imagined.  Coming to a halt and tilting his head to one side, he considered Solas with a discerning eye and an open mind.  Solas walked boldly up to Dorian, placing a hand on his bare shoulder.  Solas’ fingers betrayed his apprehension with a slight tremor.  Dorian held fast, too frightened to trust his words or actions, his heart pounding and his blood roaring.

Steeling his nerves and with a dry mouth, Solas slid his hand gently, ghosting over the other mage, ready to pull back if he caught a hint of rejection.  When his hand stopped to curl against Dorian’s neck, he could feel the man’s heartbeat.  The racing pulse was identical to his own. 

Leaning close, he breathed; “Such passion is what I love best about you.” 

His warm breath raised goosebumps as the Tevinter suppressed a trembling which threatened to consume him.  Still frozen, Dorian could only manage to part his lips, weakly miming but the words would not come.  Solas tightened his grip and pulled them slowly together to have their mouths meet.  The kiss was tentative.  Once their supple lips touched, each one drowned in the soft warmth of the other.  It was a hunger held at bay with the want to preserve this one perfect moment.  Restraint was the only way to have it last, to keep the world away from the refuge they had found, together. 

At the same time, they each erected an obscuring barrier.  Anyone who looked at the desks or walked through the space would not see how reverently the two men held each other.  Within the safety of the barrier, Dorian set his hands on Solas’ belt, taking his time in flicking the buckle loose then letting it fall to the floor.  Solas backed off from their kiss and copied the action.  Each of them disrobed the other at a leisurely pace, sucking, kissing and licking every newly exposed patch of skin.    

Solas’ hands dipped into Dorian’s trousers, but the Tevinter stopped him by grasping his wrists.  “I lived in a society that rejected anything that did not meet with their esteemed vision of perfection.  All of my life I was taught that my feelings were unnatural.  I needed to stay quiet.”

Raising Solas’ hands to his face, Dorian branded each wrist with a kiss.  “I am the greatest that they could possibly envision but the one thing, the one minor fucking thing that doesn’t affect them in the least, gives them cause to vilify and ostracize me.  I resigned myself to a life of shallow dalliances that others would shamefully offer.”

Dorian cupped his hand to Solas’ face, his thumb rubbing affectionately along the bottom edge of Solas’ ear.  “Then there was you.  I never thought…never dreamed that there could be something _more_ for me.  I grew up believing myself an abomination, unworthy of that which was guaranteed to everyone else.”   

Pausing to steady his breathing, Dorian faltered, pressing his forehead against Solas’.  “I don’t have to pretend with you.  You have seen me at my weakest and still, here you are.  I have never felt safer, stronger, than when I am in your arms.”  

“Vhenan, stop.”  Solas couldn’t take another word.  His soul cracked as Dorian’s expression fell at the fear of rejection.  Quickly, Solas filled the small silence he created.  “I won’t listen to you debase yourself like that.  The natural world is in awe of your magnificence – your beauty, your intelligence, your wit.  You are all these things and yet, you choose to be with the dirty hobo apostate.”  Solas had to chuckle at the once hated moniker, earning a faint smile from Dorian.  “Knowing you, caring for you, is the greatest thing to happen to me in a time beyond imagining.  Should the world swallow us whole and we never live to see another day, I will not regret a single moment that I have spent with you.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.”  The bare words fell short of their meaning, but they both understood. 

_I’ve always loved you._

With a tremor that shook his whole body, Solas looked into Dorian’s eyes “I need you.”

_I have loved you as well._

 Solas backed into the nearby desk, inching himself to sit upon it.  “Vhenan, garas, aman na'mis.”

The pretty words had no translation for Dorian, but Solas’ body language was as clear as a sunny day.

_Take me._

Dorian’s heart missed a beat as he was once again rendered speechless.  Since the beginning of their relationship, Dorian had merely played with Solas’ shaply rear.  The elf clearly enjoyed the stimulation but had never showed interest in Dorian being on top.

Forcing himself to move despite the doubt shouting through his body, Dorian approached Solas like a moth to a flame.  Should he perish from his foolish actions, the life-ending fireball would be glorious.  Their eyes were locked as Dorian slid his fingers into the waist of the other man’s trousers, slowly pulling them off.  Once his knees were exposed, Dorian knelt to press soft, adoring kisses to the inside of his thighs as he finished shucking the last stitch of clothing from the apostate. 

Solas watched from above and threaded his fingers through the Tevinter’s hair.  Their trysts had become increasingly more intimate but the way that Dorian touched him now, the way he looked at him, hefelt that the world had changed.  It was impossible for Solas to recall when he last felt this way for someone, indeed, had he ever felt this way for anyone? 

“A rose.”  Dorian quirked his head to the side as he met Solas’ gaze.  “You are a rose flourishing in the midst of a blighted earth; rare, beautiful and strong.”

Solas folded Dorian within his arms and they held there for a moment.  Dorian savored the warmth that was more than body heat.   Two outcasts, rejected by their fellow men, but determined to reshape the world. 

Solas now pried at Dorian’s trousers.  This time, Dorian offered no resistance, only encouraging sucks on the hills of the other mage’s shoulders.  The fabric amassed at his ankles but he was too consumed with pleasure to tend to hang them properly. 

Solas palmed his erection, massaging it tenderly with a grease spell.  The warm, slick feeling induced sweet moans from the Tevinter’s lips that Solas could taste on the tip of his tongue.  With his free hand, he pulled at Dorian’s neck as he guided the man closer.  He pressed his mouth on Dorian’s jaw then bit playfully at the base of his ear.

“Look around us Vhenan.”  Business continued as usual in Skyhold.  The crowd of birds cawed overhead, the bustle of messengers and scholars went to and fro, walking within feet of the couple.  Life moved all around them.  They were removed from it, feeling a thousand times more alive than ever before.  “You should pity them, for _they_ are unworthy of what _we_ have.”

Simultaneously, they both tightened their grasp and pulled themselves together.  Dorian slammed home, the grease spell smoothing the otherwise rough action.  Solas hissed in acceptance as his body effortlessly accommodated Dorian’s erection.  It felt gloriously right to finally be seated tight within his lover.  Overcome, he poured himself into his worship of the man in his arms.  The love he used in every touch surpassed the physical, penetrating down into the essence of his Amatus.

Solas reveled in the devotion, his magic swirling around them to return each caress in kind so his hands could grip the desk while his body adjusted around Dorian’s pleasantly welcome girth.  Even when they had played with magic, it was nothing compared to this, the fullness, the slight soreness, the desperation for friction screamed throughout his whole body and gave him a sense of completeness that he had never before experienced. 

A few moments and Solas could move more with comfort.  Able to lick and taste the flesh that had teased him all day.  His hand caught Dorian’s jaw and reeled him close to passionately possess him.  Their breaths collided and each wanton kiss charged the wisps of magic circling around them.  All their previous encounters were nothing to this glorious joining of bodies, drowning in a wave of emotion – of entwined legs, stroking, caressing hands and deep, passionate kisses.  Testing his limits, Solas bucked once.  Met with slight discomfort but a crushing wave of pleasure encouraged him to wrap his legs around Dorian’s waist.  The adjusted angle brushed against a spot within him that had Solas gasping and calling out wildly in surprise.

Dorian’s smoldering gaze delighted in Solas’ shock.  “It only gets better from here Amatus.”

This time Dorian was the one to jerk his hips, causing Solas to pinch his eyes tight as he inhaled sharply at the overwhelming sensation.  “Oh, Vhenan.  Oh, please don’t stop.”

The sensual and knowing hands of the Tevinter coaxed Solas to lay flat on the desk, never breaking their connection.  When he pushed objects out of the way, he was careful to keep them from crashing to the ground.  

Dorian wrapped his arms around Solas’ thighs, controlling their movements.  The desire to fuck Solas ruthlessly pounded in his mind but his heart owned him in this moment.  Dorian’s only goal was to please his lover and savor every delicious sensation within the current of emotion that sparked between them. 

Tilting his head back with closed eyes, Solas let himself be taken.  Dorian was a considerate lover who made this first experience a touchstone.  It wasn’t only the way their bodies fit together, but how his now declared feelings for the gorgeous man became a part of his life.  Solas couldn’t go a day without speaking with him, he needed to feel the warmth of his laugh, the affection in his touch. 

There was no rush in the way Dorian made love to him.  Solas’ body rocked back and forth as their flesh met.  Each time Dorian pressed into him, a rolling wave of ecstasy flooded through Solas’ body.  The pressure built in him, his body craving more, demanding to reach an explosive release, but his heart wanted to stay this way just a little bit longer.  Leaning over him, Dorian cradled Solas’ head as their mouths once again met in a deep kiss, their entwined tongues echoing the increasingly urgent thrusting of their hips.  

“Amatus.”  The lazy word tumbled from Dorian, but a hint of strain was noticeable.  “You feel so amazing, so hot, so tight.  I can’t help it.  I-I’m getting close.”

Taking himself in hand, Solas nodded sharply, which caused Dorian’s pace to intensify.  A thin layer of sweat shimmered on each man, their primal need taking control, demanding satisfaction.  They watched each other come, Dorian at the sight of Solas losing control, Solas enjoying the erotic liquid heat that filled him. 

Breath ragged, Dorian pulled Solas to sit up.  They kissed languidly, savoring the post sex aura that clung to them.  Hands swam over skin possessively, pressing into muscles as though it would merge them together.  With two steps backward, Dorian broke their reverie.  He delicately took Solas’ hand in his and tugged.  “Come.  Lay with me.”

Solas felt entranced.  His steps were limp and his vision glazed.  He would have done anything in that moment to see that unique arch that Dorian had to his smile.  Anything. 

Guilt shot through him like an arrow, but he pushed aside the thought to follow Dorian with sure steps.  He would deal with that another time.  Not now.

In the Tevinter’s quarters, they became entwined once more, dispelling the magic that concealed their journey.  Their bodies were still fatigued and naturally gravitated to the bed.  The expensively lush, soft bedding was pulled up to the waist and they sank comfortably into the thick, down filled mattress.  A few more sweet kisses, then Dorian twisted and curled into the crook of Solas’ shoulder.  He wrapped their legs together and continued to map out every hill and valley of Solas’ muscle bound torso with a gentle hand. 

"Maker preserve me, I can't imagine how desolate this world would be without you."  

"I had given up.”  The sudden confession that sprang from Solas so easily had the elf realize how hard he had fallen for Dorian.  “I had resigned myself to be alone, forever, and yet, my heart has bonded itself with yours.  I live in fear of the day where you are not at my side."

"Don't say such things Amatus.  It is going to take more than some ancient lunatic Magister to rip me from your side."  Dorian pressed a sleepy kiss to Solas’ neck.  "We're heroes aren't we?  Doesn't true love conquer all or some such syrupy rot?"

"It should.  Ar lath ma, Vhenan."

It wasn’t long before Dorian fell asleep, still nestled close against Solas’ side.  This was another first for the couple.  Watching his lover sleep, Solas was thankful for the shemlen curse of a short lifespan.  He hoped that by the time the world needed to burn before being reborn for The People, Dorian would long be removed from the world of the living.  He would be destroyed if Dorian had to suffer through the rebirth of a new world. 

Impulsively, Solas quietly cast a spell over his lover.  He watched as the glyph weaved and stitched itself into the slumbering form.  Knowing what he planned, this one small offer of protection was all he could offer. 

Solas spoke softly to the deaf form, peppering kisses in his black hair.  “Anything for you, Vhenan, but I cannot forget my duty to The People.” 

Sinking back onto the pillow, a smile playing on his face, Solas held Dorian tenderly as he drifted off into the Fade, still amazed and utterly moved at the shared love he had thought would never be his.


End file.
